


slow to acknowledge the knots in our laces

by dicktective



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Dick Pics, Gay Chicken, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicktective/pseuds/dicktective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He turns to Liam. “We could come up with a points system, we don't even have to do anything outside of what has set points. The interviewers would hate it. Or, are you too... chicken?"</p><p>Liam rolls his eyes, but smiles and gives Louis a pointed look. "No, Louis."</p><p>And that's the end of it. </p><p>Until a week later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	slow to acknowledge the knots in our laces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rumpledlinen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledlinen/gifts), [cmdf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmdf/gifts).



> so the timeline on this is a little weird just because i wasn't writing this with irl events in mind up until the texting bit. this was two separate fics smushed together (and a drabble reworked into the ending) so it was interesting to try to get them to connect the way they ended up connecting. and i guess i should also apologize for any weird shift in writing bc of that.
> 
> anyway, the gay chicken aspect of this fic is for my wife, [any](http://tomfjord.tumblr.com)! this fic would not exist if it wasn't for her, because she's the only one that kept pushing my to write it when i couldn't figure it out.
> 
> the marriage pact is for my child, [jasmine](http://guillotineheart.tumblr.com). this fic would probably only exist in weird chunky pieces (and would never have been posted) if it wasn't for her, because she's the only one that put up with me talking at her about it until i untangled it myself and helped answer questions i couldn't decide on myself.
> 
> final shout outs to [ani](http://ofstellardust.tumblr.com) (not to be confused with any) for the beta and to [annie](http://1dgaf.tumblr.com) (not to be confused with any or ani) for giving me most of the ideas in this fic when it was still a nebulous idea over a year ago (specifically the body shots).

They don't really realize what they're doing until they're halfway through the game. Or, well, they don't realize it’s a game until Harry points it out.

"Are you two playing gay chicken or something?" Harry asks as they come off stage. He's not paying attention to where he’s walking and bumps into Liam.

Zayn cocks an eyebrow as he passes them. "The fuck's gay chicken? Wait, no, I've just decided I'd rather not know," he says without waiting for an answer. He leaves the rest of them standing in the hallway that leads to the dressing rooms and disappears through one of the doors.

Niall comes to a stop in front of them. "I wanna know," he says and puts an arm around Harry’s shoulder. Liam crosses his arms over his chest, waiting, so Louis motions for Harry to continue.

"Well, " Harry starts, blinking slowly as he tries to think of how to begin. "It's, like... Basically, what it is, you and a friend play this game. Someone of the same sex, that is, or I guess that would just make it straight chicken? Wait, ok, so. It's this game Nick told me how to play -- don't make that face Louis. How it works is, you and your friend -- of the same gender -- start doing stupid things. But, like, gay things, which, I mean, aren't stupid. It's just, it feels dumb or embarrassing. It’s supposed to make you feel dumb or embarrassed so that you want to stop. So things like holding hands or like the time Nick and I played it we started off hugging and then it got all the way to --"

"We get it," Louis cuts in with an exasperated sigh. "Skip to the end, will you?"

Liam chuckles, Niall pats Harry on the arm with a grin, and Harry grimaces at Louis but continues. "Basically, the things you do get more and more outlandish until one of you chickens out and the game ends. The one who ends it is ‘ _gay_ ’ because they’re the least secure in their sexuality, or whatever. It's pretty homophobic though."

Louis thinks about this for a moment, "Is there a points system?"

Liam turns to him and makes a face, knows exactly where Louis is headed with this. "No, Tommo. Replay is one thing but this is different."

"Where's your sense of adventure, Liam?" Louis practically yells, grabbing and shaking him by the shoulders. Harry rolls his eyes and he and Niall turn to follow Zayn, leaving Louis and Liam to argue amongst themselves.

"I don't know, Lou. I don't think it's a good idea. That means kissing and stuff," Liam says with a laugh but he's frowning.

"Or more," Harry yells over his shoulder. "As Nick proved."

"Ugh," Louis yells at Harry. "Shut up.” He turns back to Liam. “We could come up with a points system, we don't even have to do anything outside of what has set points. The interviewers would hate it. Or, are you too... chicken?"

Liam rolls his eyes, but smiles and gives Louis a pointed look. "No, Louis."

And that's the end of it.

Until a week later when Liam is sitting next to Louis in an interview and Louis leans into Liam and whispers against his neck, "Three points." Louis pinches his nipple and Liam jumps and elbows Louis in the stomach out of reflex.

Louis can see the muscles in Liam’s jaw working as he shifts in his seat. Louis frowns and goes to pinch his nipple again and gets just the reaction he was hoping for. Liam grabs his hands, tight and controlling, just like he’s done a thousand times before. Louis leans into him again, harder this time, pressing flush against his body and runs his teeth along Liam's earlobe. He feels Liam shiver against him, trying his hardest to focus on what the interviewer is saying.

"Seven points for you, Li," Louis whispers with a proud grin. He leans back into his corner of the couch and Liam shoots him an angry look, but doesn’t let go of his hands.

He's still holding onto Louis's hands after the interview is finished and they're walking out of the small room to head off for a quick lunch before they're at it again. The other boys have gotten into the van that's driving them around today, but Liam tugs on Louis's hands to drag him off to the side.

Louis grins smugly when Liam gives him a weary look. "Should we award extra points for the longer we last? You're definitely winning, now, Li. Pretty sure I’d win if we were in bed, though. ‘Cause I’d last longer, get it?"

He hears Niall cackle in the van and Liam frowns and lets go of Louis's hand. "I don't want to play this, Louis."

"You _are_ chicken, aren't you?" Louis baits again.

"No," Liam says sternly. "I just... This'll get out of hand. It always does with you."

Louis sniffs. "Then I'll just have to play with someone else, Zayn, probably."

"No," Zayn says in an uninterested voice from the back seat. Niall laughs again joined by a giggling Harry.

Liam's eyebrows are drawn together and he's looking at the ground, at his feet, angry. Or confused, perhaps. Louis rubs his thumb between Liam's eyebrows and he relaxes instantly, closing his eyes and, ever so slightly, sways into Louis's touch.

"It's just a game, Liam, relax," he murmurs and then turns to jump in the van. Liam hesitates and follows in after him.

-

There's nothing quite like riling Liam up. Its been a while since anything he's done has brought out serious and sensible Liam. Most of that ended a while ago.

Louis’s corrupted Liam. That's all there is to it, really. There isn't much that still gets Liam pausing to question his morals or responsibilities. So having found this was like drilling into a pocket of oil.

There is nothing Louis likes more than getting on Liam’s nerves a bit. He likes figuring out where Liam draws _The Line_. Even more, he likes toying around the edge of it until Liam gets so frustrated that he crosses it himself and drags Louis with him. That way it’s not Louis’s fault. Plausible deniability and all that.

He and Liam are sat together on the floor in front of the coffee table in the living room of their hotel suite, a notebook set between them on the table.

"No, double points is too much to have in interviews too, " Liam says, grabbing the biro from Louis and scratching out what he'd just written. "Double points on stage only?"

“Mmm, no,” Louis says rewriting it. Liam sighs, knows he’s fighting a losing battle. Louis slides closer and pulls the pen back to look at the list, sets it between his teeth and looks at Liam thoughtfully. “What about kissing?” Liam pauses, expression unreadable, looking at the pen Louis is holding in his mouth. It makes Louis’s heart buzz against his ribs. “High points for kissing in public? Low points in private? Don’t want to tempt me with high points in private. It’d be too easy to rack up points, I still need to catch up as it is.”

Liam grins, but it’s closer to a grimace. “Let’s just reset points? Start with these new rules. Twenty points in public, ten points in private. Does that sound fair?”

“Twenty points seems really low for kissing, Liam,” Louis answers but he’s writing it down on their list anyway, which has now covered half of the page. He starts a new column and catches Liam looking at the paper with a distant expression. “150 points if we get each other’s names tattooed on our body. Extra ten if it’s visible with a long-sleeved shirt on,” he says quickly, trying to get Liam to lighten up.

Liam laughs. “You are _not_ writing that one down.”

“I take this game very seriously, Liam,” Louis replies, jerking the notebook and pen away so that Liam can’t snatch them from him.

“Visible with a long-sleeved shirt on?” Liam asks, unconvinced. “What, like, on my face?”

“Extra 300 points if it’s on your face,” Louis says with a grin and adds that in parentheses next to it on the list. They’ve got a total of 40 items now, ranging from hugging and hand-holding to far beyond. Liam tugs the notebook and reads over it, nodding in approval. “It has to say property of Louis Tomlinson,” Louis adds and throws the pen, hitting Liam on the cheek.

Liam frowns at him. “Absolutely not.”

Louis laughs, bright and loud, and then gets a determined look on his face before leaning forward, towards Liam, getting right in his space. Liam freezes, eyes going wide, looking for all the world like a deer caught in headlights.

Louis’s face is centimeters away and they’re breathing each other’s air for a moment. Louis lets the tension build, knows exactly what is going through Liam’s head. Liam’s lips part, like he’s trying to think of how to ask Louis what he’s doing, and his brows knit in confusion.

God, does he love to rile Liam up.

He brushes Liam’s nose with his and shouts, “ESKIMO KISS! Three points to me.”

Liam gives a surprised laugh, eyes going crinkly. “Scared me there for a minute, Tommo. Thought you were actually going to kiss me for those ten points.”

“I did kiss you, Liam. Eskimo kiss,” Louis pats his cheek fondly and tallies down his points on the next page.

Liam leans over and rests his head on Louis’s shoulder, “Yes, of course. Eskimo kiss, right.” He threads their fingers together. Louis looks to see how many points hand holding is worth and tallies up equal points for Liam next to his.

Liam is very cranky the next morning. Possibly because Louis spent the whole night bugging him to put handjobs on the list for sixty points just because he knew Liam would say no. He starts a secret list in his head. It has a number of things that would probably make Liam spontaneously combust.

They’re in a round of radio interviews in the morning that will soon drift into filming commercial spots and voice overs for the various stations.

Liam tries to argue that radio shows aren’t public because it’s usually just the band and a few other people in the studio, that the fans can’t see them so it shouldn’t be double points. But then Louis kisses Liam’s nose and points happily to the camera that is recording the entire thing for the internet.

Liam grudgingly admits that it counts.

When they break for lunch, Liam holds Louis’s hand the entire time, allowing Louis only long enough to spread the mayonnaise on the burgers Paul has brought them before he locks their hands back together. It makes for a sloppy lunch, but Louis uses his napkin to dab at Liam’s mouth for him.

Zayn and Niall make kissy faces behind them and Harry pretends to vomit several times, but, by the end of lunch, the points are as follows:

> Liam - 26  
>  Louis - 23

They keep having to add new items to their list, things that they’ll probably never use again. Zayn threatens to tear the list up into tiny pieces and let it blow away in the wind. Harry says he’d just like to crumple it up and continuously throw it at their heads. Niall says he’ll eat it. It becomes an argument about whether or not Niall could even eat a whole sheet of paper and ends with Liam having to grab all of the paper in the room to keep Niall from trying.

“Those two are attached at the hip more than usual,” Zayn grumbles, pushing what’s left of his chicken sandwich around on his plate. “Didn’t think that was even possible.” Louis frowns and lifts his head off of where he had it rested on Liam’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well, you know how competitive those knobs are,” Niall says, throwing a chip at Zayn’s hair.

“We’re right here,” Liam complains.

-

“Your cheeks are flushed,” Louis says several weeks later, eyeing Liam with a ridiculous, shark-like smile.

“Like a toilet,” Harry adds, helpfully. Louis turns on him and Harry quickly purses his lips.

Liam is looking down at their points, written out in Louis’s illegible handwriting -- points, action, date -- one after the other in two columns now, like a transaction log. It’s just started to spill over to the next page in the notebook.

Louis is leading by twenty-five points as of last night.

“This is absurd,” Liam says, flipping back to the first page showing how much each action is worth. Louis can tell he’s skimming the list for all of the twenty-plus ideas. “How does wearing my jumper count as twenty points?”

“It just does,” Louis answers, taking the notebook back. “Looks like your options are limited, if you want to catch up though, Li.”

“That’s not even fair, Louis!” Liam says, grabbing the notebook again. “That’s _maybe_ worth ten.”

Harry steps between them, like a referee. Louis can even picture him with a whistle. He puts a hand on either of their chests and shakes his head. “Boys, boys, play nice.”

“Tell him it’s not worth twenty points, Harry,” Liam says and Louis is start to think he’s actually a bit angry. “Kissing is worth twenty points --” and _oh_ “-- there’s no way sharing clothes is equal to that. Hell, he’s written down this line of squiggles that just says ‘thirty points’.” He holds out the notebook to Harry and presses a finger to what does, indeed, look like a squiggle.

Louis crosses his arms and lets out an annoyed huff. “He’s just upset because he doesn’t want have to kiss me to catch up.”

He can’t tell if Liam’s cheeks go pink, but he’s fairly convinced they do. He spends a brief moment dying to know what that’s supposed to mean.

“Wearing your jumper is fairly public, Liam,” Harry says quickly, reasonably even, but he’s glaring at Louis. “There were paps and everything.”

Liam throws his hands in the air and tosses the pad of paper back on the table behind him. “If I had known it was even on the list I wouldn’t have let him borrow it,” Liam says, voice going a little shrill towards the end. “It was a plain grey jumper, hell, I’m fairly sure I stole it from Niall.”

Harry looks like he’s considering this for a moment and turns to Louis. “Niall isn’t playing the game,” he says like it’s a very sensible rule to follow.

Louis steps into Liam’s space and reaches for the paper and pen lying on the table and strikes through the action, a little too angrily, scratching the paper underneath it too. He might be a little too competitive for his own good. “There,” he says through clenched teeth. “Happy?”

Liam swallows and doesn’t look like he’s particularly proud, which leaves Louis with a sour sense of having won this round. Liam nods and turns, walking out of the room.

Harry sighs and shakes his head. “Lovers quarrel,” he mumbles. Louis elbows him in the gut, satisfied by the huff of air and quiet groan.

But it gives him an idea all the same.

Liam is still snuggled up, under the covers, tapping away at his cell phone, when Louis walks into his room the next morning carrying a tray from room service.

“Hey,” Louis says gently. “I came to apologize. For the… fight… we had yesterday.”

Liam sighs and lets his wrists fall to the bed, phone dropping out of his hands. “Is this on the list?” And Louis winces, setting the tray down at the end of the bed as Liam sits up. “ _Apologizing_ is on the list? _Really_?” He already sounds a little mad again.

Louis looks at the tray and back at Liam, forces himself to adopt a playful grin. “Breakfast in bed!” He sets it on the end of the bed and opens his arms, motioning to the toast, eggs, and bacon, and what looks like a piece of fried chicken or something covered in gravy. America…

He looks back up at Liam and sees that he isn’t smiling, he’s slouched against the headboard, looking at the food like it disgusts him. Louis’s shoulders slump and he has to keep himself from frowning. “But not for the game. Game paused for today. Just... I am sorry. Really.” 

Liam eyes him -- like he’s trying to dig into Louis’s words, his body language -- like he’s back to not trusting Louis, waiting for the teasing or the cruel joke. He must find what he’s looking for because he screws up his mouth and sighs, long suffering, and scoots over, patting the bed next to him.

Louis grins at him, and climbs into bed, sliding under the sheets and pulling the tray into his lap.

“Wait, game unpaused,” Louis says, stabbing a fork into a piece of scrambled eggs. He holds it up to Liam, offering it for him to eat. Liam rolls his eyes but takes the bite of food anyway.

“How many points is feeding each other worth?” He asks, still chewing. “Didn’t think that was on the list. It’s a good one though, to be fair.”

“I’ll add it later, maybe two points?” He says and takes a bite for himself. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Liam swallows and picks up a piece of bacon, poking Louis’s lips with it. He raises an eyebrow at Liam, watching the grin on his face as he purses his lips and refuses to take a bite.

“Come on,” Liam says, shifting so that he can use his other hand to grab at Louis’s chin and try to get his mouth open.

“Mmmm!” Louis grunts, rattling the tray of food as they struggle.

“You said game unpaused,” Liam says, laughter bubbling out of him. His eyes are crinkling around the edges and Louis thinks that maybe his work here is done, the apologising has worked. “Let me feed you, Louis, it’s only fair!”

Louis stops struggling and opens his mouth obediently. Liam holds the bacon for Louis to take a bite and then he grabs the napkin to dab the grease off of Louis’s face for him.

“Ooh,” Louis beams, chewing happily, offering his chin for extra napkin dabbing. “Extra points for you, Liam. You take good care of me.”

Liam beams right back and pops what is left of the piece of bacon into his own mouth.

They finish eating, Louis sets the tray on the ground next to the bed and Liam pulls him back for a cuddle before he can escape.

“Ugh, you need to shave,” Louis mumbles, pulling away from where Liam was holding him tight against his chest. “I don’t want to kiss you if you don’t shave.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “I was just hugging you. I wasn’t planning on kissing you.”

“What if _I_ was planning on kissing _you_?”

“Then I definitely won’t shave,” Liam shrugs. “That way I win.” Louis pinches his bum in retaliation, a warning, a punishment. Liam skitters away, slapping Louis’s hand. Louis moves back into his space, pressing in next to him, and rests his legs across Liam’s lap, Liam’s arm tugging around his neck.

“I’m glad we changed it so hugging is only two points,” Louis says grumpily. “All you ever do is hug.”

“I like hugging,” he says with a shrug. “Would do it even if it wasn’t for points.” Liam rubs his thumb across Louis’s shoulder. It shouldn’t feel as comforting as it does.

“No sense of adventure,” Louis grumbles, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder. “Why don’t you try something more adventurous? Give me a foot massage, that’s fifteen points.” He wiggles his toes in the air. Liam removes his arm from around Louis’s neck and leans forward to grab his foot.

Louis yelps, “No, I’m ticklish there!” And tugs his foot away.

“How am I supposed to get any points for giving you a foot massage then?” Liam asks, voice raised.

“You can’t!” Louis says, matching his pitch, and folds his feet under himself to hide them from Liam.

“Well, I don’t want to touch your smelly feet anyway,” Liam huffs. Then he’s quiet for a moment as he looks at Louis curiously. “How many points did we say tickle fights were?”

“We didn’t…” Louis starts, but Liam is grinning devilishly. “NO!” Louis is on his feet in seconds, running towards the door. He’s going to hide in Zayn’s room. Zayn won’t put up with this and Liam will _have_ to leave him alone. Zayn will protect him.

But before he can make it across the room and out the door, Liam’s got an arm around his waist and is tackling him onto his back against the carpet. His fingers dig a hectic pattern into the sensitive skin around his waist and under his arms, pushing his shirt out of the way. Liam’s fingers grab into his stomach and pinch above his hips.

He’s yelling Liam’s name, giggling and shouting obscenities. Liam has his hips pinned, is straddling him, keeping him from kicking by tangling their feet together, but Louis is putting up a fight. He’s trying his hardest to pin Louis’s arms with one hand, except Louis is stronger in that regard and he grabs one of Liam’s wrists firmly.

“LIAM. STOP.”

Liam does, finally, rests his hands on either side of Louis’s head, grinning down at him. They’re both breathless, Liam still straddling him. Louis still holding onto one of Liam’s wrists.

He doesn’t know what makes him do it, maybe it’s the way Liam’s looking at him. Like Louis’s the only thing that makes him happy. Or like they’re seeing each other clearly, for once. But Louis runs his hand up and down Liam’s forearm, eyeing the chevron arrows etched into the tan skin. Liam is watching him, still breathing hard. The muscles in his forearm flex under Louis’s fingers as Liam shifts above him.

Louis clears his throat and bites his lip. Liam’s eyes trace the movement. “I’ve always liked this tattoo,” he mumbles. Liam doesn’t respond, but his breathing has evened out.

They stare at each other for too long, just breathing.

The knock on the door has Liam standing upright and across the room in record time, face red, straightening out his clothes. Louis frowns, but hops up and goes to the door.

He opens it a crack.

Harry and Niall are standing in the hallway, in their pajamas -- which isn’t saying much for Harry. They look equally tired and amused.

“‘Morning! You two goin’ at it in there?” Niall asks around a yawn.

Louis cackles, nervous. “What? No!”

Harry smirks. “Just heard you yelling Liam’s name over and over again, ” He says, slow, with a shrug. “Thought you were finally having sex. Figured it was part of your game or something.”

“If we were, why did you think it was a good idea to interrupt us?” Louis asks, voice breaking.

“Have you two even kissed yet?” Niall asks, ignoring Louis with a raised eyebrow. It sounds like an accusation.

He pauses, back stiffening. “No.”

“You owe me ten bucks, Haz.”

Harry groans.

“Sex isn’t even on our list,” Liam squeaks from behind him.

Harry groans again. Niall cackles, “You owe me thirty bucks.”

“Longest bloody game of gay chicken ever,” Harry grumbles, shuffling back to his room.

Louis stamps his foot, pouting. “Stop betting on our game. It’s our game, not yours.” And he shuts the door on them, stomping back to the bed. Liam is standing at the edge of it, quiet. Louis crawls under his sheets and sits watching his hands in his lap. The silence stretches between them, awkward.

“I’m going to get ready for today,” Liam mumbles, finally, and grabs his shampoo and conditioner from his suitcase. He’s halfway across the room when he turns around and grabs something else from his bag. His razor. “Need to shave,” He adds, clearing his throat. He walks to the bathroom and closes the door.

-

Danielle breaks up with Liam on a Wednesday. Louis is more drunk than he’d like to admit. And Liam is falling behind.

“You need to drink more,” Louis shouts over the music playing loud in Liam’s flat. Liam shakes his head, waving a hand. “I’ll give you points if you drink more! Free points!”

Liam laughs, half heartedly, and thinks about it for a moment. “Yeah, all right, but only for the free points, because I think I might be behind.”

Louis wags a finger, stumbling a little bit closer to Liam to get closer to his ear. “It’s not going to be that easy. Still have to do a little something, Payne.”

“You said free!” Liam argues, but at least now he’s got a smile on his face. Louis appreciates the small victories.

Liam has been moping around, not just all night, but for the last two or three weeks. It’s even affected the game and, while Louis hasn’t been nagging Liam, it has been getting on his nerves that they haven’t been playing as enthusiastically as before. He’s forcing himself not to talk about it because he knows it would be insensitive.

Louis picks up the bottle of vodka and tries to think for a moment, his brain is fuzzy in that way where he might not remember all of his actions tomorrow until someone reminds him and while that might be dangerous territory, it’s nothing new for him.

He sets the bottle down for a moment and clears away the things they’ve got set up before he hops up on the table, lying down and lifting up his shirt.

“Wait,” Liam says, confused. “What’s happening?”

Louis ignores his question for a moment, grabbing the bottle of vodka, he pours at the hollow of his stomach, a bit of it running down towards his belly button when he takes a breath. “Body shots,” Louis says brightly, taking a swig from the bottle, himself, for courage. The vodka on his stomach is still cold from where it had been packed away in the freezer so he hesitates, extremely aware of Liam watching him, and rubs the bottom of the bottle on his nipple. Finally, he pours more vodka into a shot glass and puts it in his mouth, holding it with his lips.

Liam stares at him -- half confused, half in awe -- so Louis closes his eyes, waving for him to get on with it already. There’s a long, long moment that drags on, his belly button starting to feel a bit sticky, and he thinks it’s a bust, that he’s taken it too far. Maybe the nipple was a bit much.

But then Liam’s body is pressing against his, and his tongue is suddenly at his navel, warm and wet as he licks up Louis’s stomach before sucking in the small puddle of alcohol that hasn’t run down his sides. He opens his eyes, watching Liam wipe his chin before leaning over to set his lips around the shot glass, taking it from Louis’s mouth, and tossing it back.

“Liam Payne,” Louis yells gleefully. “You are a champion.”

Liam grimaces and wipes at his mouth again. But he’s grinning and pouring another shot, slamming it back immediately.

“Fifty points to you, Liam,” Louis says, taking a shaky breath. “If you do just one more off my stomach.” And he tells himself he’s not doing this for selfish reasons, that he’s A) trying to cheer Liam up and B) giving him a chance to catch up on points. Not that he likes the hot slick press of Liam’s tongue to his skin.

Liam gives him a look. “Fifty points?” He sounds a little disbelieving. “That’ll put me way ahead, Tommo.”

“Then you better take this opportunity while I’m still offering it,” he says, already pouring the vodka down his abs. Liam is watching him, biting his lip.

He’s barely finished twisting the cap back on the bottle when Liam is leaning over him, a hand on his ribs to hold him still. He presses his tongue flat on Louis’s navel, just below his belly button, close to the hem of his joggers and licks up, tongue flicking into his belly button to lap up the alcohol before continuing it’s path up Louis’s stomach. He sucks the vodka in where it’s collected, lips pressed loosely on Louis’s skin, lingering there for a moment, and then he nips at his skin, thumb rubbing across his nipple at the same moment. He gives Louis a lazy grin as he pulls away.

Louis’s head is spinning, his entire body feels electrified and he has to take a steadying breath before he sits up and pulls his shirt down. “I’ll go and write that down then,” he mumbles, a little wobbly on his feet when he hops down off the table. Liam nods, staring at a spot on the table and biting his lip.

It’s a while later, Louis’s gone from a good sort of drunk to a sad sort of buzzed, always angry when this happens as the night wears on. He likes a steady incline on the drunk scale, not a bell curve, followed by crashing into bed, maybe emptying his stomach in a toilet in between.

“Oh god,” Liam says suddenly, like he’s just remembered dinosaurs are extinct or that the Earth rotates around the sun and not the other way around. “Louis,” his voice is deadly serious as he kills off another drink. “What if, oh my god, what if…”

Louis raises his eyebrows, waiting for Liam to finish the thought. It’s quiet for a long moment. “What if what, Liam?”

“What if I’m single for the rest of my life,” Liam finishes a little lamely. Louis snorts and Liam frowns at him. “I’m serious.”

“How many drinks have you had?” Louis asks, taking the empty glass from Liam’s hands and setting it on the kitchen counter.

“Seven, I think,” Liam says, swaying in his chair a little like he’s going to reach to take the glass back even though there’s no reason he needs it. He seems to realise this. Or maybe he gets distracted, it’s anyone’s game. “Maybe nine, actually. The shots threw me off.”

“Yeah, come on, we’re taking you to bed,” Louis says, putting an arm around Liam’s waist to lift him off the bar stool.

“No, but, Louis,” he says, eyebrows pulling together in worry. “Wait, Lou. I’m turning twenty-five in… in like… two years.”

“Four,” Louis supplies helpfully.

“Like three and a half,” Liam volleys, as if he’s been ready with the retort since the conversation started. Louis sighs, conceding the point. “That’s so few years, Louis. I thought I’d be fucking married at twenty-five.”

Louis rolls his eyes, half-dragging Liam down the hall, fairly sure he’s trying his hardest to be as useless as possible. This is possibly payback for all the times that Louis has done the same thing, resisting the suggestion of sleep after partying all night. “That’s really young to get married, Li.”

“That’s only enough time for like, one more serious relationship.” They’re weaving down the hallway. “Louis,” Liam says a little more persistently.

“What,” Louis answers through clinched teeth.

“What if I’m not married by twenty-five?”

“Then you’ll get married eventually,” he says, banging into the bedroom door with his shoulder to get it open.

“I don’t want to get married eventually,” Liam mumbles, desperation lacing his voice. He stops Louis in the doorway swaying a bit. He grabs onto the collar of his shirt with both hands to steady himself and looks from his fingers to Louis’s face, searching.

Oh, for Christ’s sake.

“Make sure I’m married at twenty-five, Louis,” Liam says, still clinging to Louis’s shirt, getting it proper wrinkled. Louis looks at his fingers, frowning, and back at his face.

“I’m not Cupid, what am I supposed to do?” He asks gently, taking Liam’s hands and getting him to release their death grip on his previously rewearable shirt.

“No, like,” Liam says, stumbling a little when Louis starts to push him back towards the bed. “Like what if nobody ever loves me? What if nobody wants to marry me?”

He falls against the bed, sitting down with a heavy sigh. Louis frowns at him, but he isn’t focusing on Louis’s face. “I love you. And someone will want to marry you,” he reassures him. “I promise.”

“Do you though?” Liam says, squinting at him a little suspiciously. “Do you really promise?”

“I swear, pinky promise even,” he replies, holding out his pinky. Liam tries to focus on it and gives up after a minute. He goes in to hook their pinkies together and misses at first, but finally manages to wrap them together once he tries again.

“I love you too,” Liam sighs. “If nobody marries me when I turn twenty-five will you do it? Will you marry me?” He asks quietly, squeezing Louis’s pinky with his like he’s willing it to mean something.

Louis scoffs, “Liam.” In his head though, he’s panicking, wondering when Liam is going to ask if it’s on the list. That this is all just a part of the game and that’s that.

“I mean it, Louis,” he says, voice desperate again.

“Romantic one you are. Liam, I’m very confident that someone will fall in love with you before you turn twenty-five,” Louis says, voice still light even though Liam’s got him rather worried now. Obviously he’s been taking the break-up hard, that was the point of this whole night-in -- too much alcohol and all. But it’s hard to see Liam hurting like this, thinking he’s unlovable.

“Louis, promise,” Liam demands, voice wobbly, eyes starting to tear up again like they had so many times tonight. “Promise me.”

“All right, all right,” Louis rushes, a hand to Liam’s cheek. “I promise, Liam, okay? Now lets get you in bed, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Liam sighs, closing his eyes and pressing a little against Louis’s hand. “Don’t leave yet. Stay here.”

“Ok, love,” Louis mumbles, pressing at Liam’s shoulder to get him to lie down sideways, face pressed in the pillow. “I’m right here.”

“You’re staying?” He repeats, hopeful.

“Yes, Liam,” Louis says, petting at his hair.

“Good, because I think I’m going to throw up,” Liam mumbles.

Louis wakes up the next morning with his face pressed into the couch and as he moves he can feel the indent that the fabric has left on his skin, seam of the decorative pillow he’d been using leaving a line across his cheek.

His mouth tastes like what he imagines a week old bag of fast food shoved in a diaper would taste like and his throat hurts. The first thing he sees is the gay chicken notebook sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

He’s in Liam’s house, he knows that much. They’d been drinking, his brain and stomach are quick to remind him. There might have been some dancing to ABBA, he’s not sure.

He grabs the notebook and looks at what’s written down. It’s even less legible than usual, but he can decipher it for the most part. There’s about four rows of hugging given to Liam, a few points that Liam insisted Louis should have for letting him have a cry on his shoulder, and then from there it gets out of hand.

Body shots. He remembers that like he’s remembering a movie he watched a few years ago. It isn’t vague, he remembers the highlights and could summarize what had happened, but whatever was going through his mind at that moment is out of the question. He rubs at his face, groaning, mostly out of physical discomfort, but a tad bit out of embarrassment that he’d actually let himself do that. Liam’s nearly one hundred points ahead of him with that.

He twists around and sits up, going back to the list, taking a deep breath as he readies himself for whatever happened next last night.

There’s four kisses on the cheek that he’d given Liam, although they’re varying amounts of points for whatever reason. And then there’s something scratched out, he remembers arguing about something and then crossing it out because Liam made a good point at how it didn’t count. He doesn’t exactly remember what, though.

Next is ‘Marriage Proposal’, underlined twice, with an entire row of somewhat neat question marks next to it, and then less neat question marks surrounding it in a variety of sizes.

Right. That had happened. He scratches at the stubble at his jaw, thinking about Liam’s hands worrying at his shirt collar in the doorway, dark and heavy eyes asking for something that didn’t translate.

He sniffs, setting the notebook down and looks around the room for a clock. The sun is shining through the set of windows that lead to a balcony over the back garden.

Louis stands, grabs his trousers off the floor from where he’d shucked them last night, and digs in the back pocket for his packet of cigarettes. He walks over to the back door, slipping out quietly to the balcony and sets a cigarette to his lips, finding the matchbook that Liam keeps under an overturned ashtray.

He inhales deeply, head pounding, and leans against the railing, looking down to the tiny green garden, a few plots of flowers here and there between shrubs and bushes.

The door behind him opens a few minutes later and Liam steps out, rubbing at his bare arms as the cold hits him and squinting against the sunlight.

“Hey,” he mumbles, taking Louis’s pack of cigarettes from the table and helping himself to one.

“Smoking’s bad for you, you know,” Louis says, taking another drag off his.

Liam ignores him, lights the cigarette with a quick, short breath. “You’re the one that got me started. If I die you’ll get nothing in my will.”

“Speaking of legal documents,” Louis says after a moment’s quiet, turning around to rest his back against the railing and propping his elbows up as he looks over at Liam. “Are you going to ask for a pre-nup?”

“What?” Liam asks on a laugh.

“Don’t you remember?” Louis asks taking another drag. Liam is looking at him, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “You proposed last night. Rose petals on the bed, a bottle of champagne, and an absolutely, ridiculously large, stunningly gorgeous, gleaming rock.”

Liam takes the cigarette from his lips, confused for a moment at all the things he doesn’t remember. Then he realises Louis is joking and smiles. “Oh, yeah!” He exclaims, excitedly. “I mean, you did promise.”

Louis sighs. “How many points is a proposal worth?”

“Mmm,” Liam says flicking off the end of his cigarette. “I’ll give you a pass on this one. When I propose to someone and mean it I want it to really count. Not drunk and desperate. Or for a game.”

 _So he didn’t mean it_ … Louis turns back to lean over the railing, looking at the rooftop of the townhouse next door. “Yeah,” he mumbles, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the floor and stomping it out with his foot. “You’re already too far ahead in points, anyway. Make you breakfast to catch up?”

Liam stubbs his half-smoked cigarette out as well, opening the door for Louis to go inside. “I suppose you’ve gotta start somewhere! I’ve been craving one of your cheese toasties.”

“My cheese toasties are a very well known hangover cure,” Louis says, knowingly.

“I’m well aware, I’ve experienced them first hand. Maybe a poached egg?” Liam asks, following him in.

“Liam, I’m no Jamie Oliver,” he says, very seriously. “You get a cheese toastie or you get nothing.”

Liam tsks. “Reckon that I’ll have to dock you on points then.”

-

The holidays fly by, Halloween a distant memory. They’d nearly done couples costumes but couldn’t decide who the points would’ve gone to, so they gave up on that idea. Christmas comes and goes, with it Louis’s birthday.

The last few years the boys haven’t really done any gift giving. Not because the whole _what can you get someone who has everything_ but more because they’re all just God awful at thoughtful sort of gifts.

His mum is usually unsuccessful at keeping him from opening all of his presents until Christmas morning. And because of this the girls get to open theirs too, all of them sat around the tree in the living room on Christmas Eve.

Louis gets two gifts from Liam, one in a red and green gift bag, the other a box, also red and green but with a white ribbon wrapped around it. The note on the bag says:

> _Happy Christmas! From your favorite (only?) fake boyfriend.  
>  -Li_

And Louis has to wipe the grin from his face because his mum is giving him a curious look like she’s about to ask. He’s not quite sure she would understand if he tried to explain the game or the way his lungs feel tight at the word _boyfriend_.

He takes out the bits of tissue paper to dig out a large book. Great, just what he needed, another photo album full of memories. But this is from Liam so it’s a bit different just in that regard alone. He opens it up, frowning at the bits of paper stuck between pages, hand written notes, scrawled and scratched out and rewritten. They look familiar, the handwriting. All of it. He reads the first note.

It’s lyrics.

His own handwriting and Liam’s mingling together on the page. He bites the inside of his cheek and wonders if someone sucked all the air out of the room. Liam’s always been the one to bring out Louis’s sentimental side and he knows it. His mum looks over at what he’s got and places a kiss on the crown of his head, moving on to watch the twins rip apart a neatly wrapped gift from Santa.

He flips through it, looking at all the work they’ve done. A few unfinished songs sprinkled in, things they weren’t sure about, a silly one about Niall’s feet that they wrote while very, very tired.

There’s one that’s entirely in Julian’s handwriting, one of the few that he and John and Jamie worked on alone, one of the ones that they’d liked. Liam’s circled the first line in red marker, a note to the side that says, “Love this!!!!” Louis reads the words, it’s the same ones that Liam’s got tattooed under the feather on his forearm.

He shakes his head, flipping through the last few pages and laughs softly at the last one, a song that he’d written entirely on his own, titled _An Ode To Liam’s Chin_. He’s surprised that Liam had kept that one. He’s surprised Liam had kept any of it.

He sets the book down on the table and goes for the other package, which has a note tucked under the neat little bow. It says:

> _Open this in private. God, I hope you read the notes first for once. Happy birthday! Also, sorry for the Christmas colors, they didn’t have anything else??????  
>  -Li_

He gives it a curious look, heart racing as he tries to think of what it could be. He slips it away, to the side, waiting for his sisters to finish opening their presents. He feels jittery, can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

It takes so long, all of the presents, that he nearly forgets it’s there when he gets up to finally go to his room. He sits on his bed, fingers tapping at the box nervously for a moment, working up the nerve to find out what it is.

The bow slips off easy and he pulls the top of the box off, setting it to the side. More tissue paper to move aside. Sitting in his lap is lingerie, black and lacy thong and matching stockings with a garter belt. Louis picks the thong up, head hollow with the loud beat of his heart, and holds it up with both hands.

He drops it back in the box, stomach twisting with the thought of Liam picking this out with him in mind. “Fuck,” he mumbles, setting the box on the bed next to him, scrambling to get his phone from his pocket.

> _What the fuck liam_

Hands shaking, he presses send, follows it up with a single question mark after a moment, and tosses his phone beside the box, scrubbing his hands over his face and looking at the soft lace lines at the top of the stockings. He puts the cover back on, looking around the room for some way to deal with this. His phone buzzes.

> _ready to give up on gay chicken yet!!!!!!!!:)_

Louis’s heart settles a bit at the words. Because, right... The game. Liam had thought of something not on the list. It was for points. It’s creative, at least. He’ll give him that. He licks his lips, trying to ignore the twinge of embarrassment he feels at the realisation.

> _No way man if anything its only jsut begun >:)_

The dots at the bottom of the screen tell him Liam is typing so he pauses, not waiting long for the response.

> _:(_

-

The fucking underwear keep riding up his arse, he’s not even doing anything, just sitting at the bar, and it keeps riding up. He has to remind himself that that’s what g-strings are meant to do, or at least he thinks so, anyway.

He’s got a beer, looking around at all of the people as he takes a long pull from his glass, needs to pack in about four more before he’s ready for whatever’s going to happen tonight. Hell, he’d already had two drinks before he even left his house.

It’s about an hour hour to midnight.

New Year’s Eve is always his favorite time of year, lots of parties to choose from, an excuse to drink excessively. Tonight, however, he’s more nervous than anything. Nervous at how Liam will react to him actually wearing the lingerie, the stockings and garter belt on under his jeans.

Nervous that tonight, at the countdown, this might be their first kiss.

Liam’s texted him, saying he’s on his way, that he’ll be there in five minutes. That’s not enough time for the number of drinks Louis would like to have had, so he gulps down the rest of his beer in one go and turns back to wave over the bartender. He orders two shots of whiskey and another beer, fingers drumming at the bar.

He shoots back one with a grimace, taking a sip of beer to wash away the taste. And he slams back the second shot just as he feels Liam’s hand at the small of his back. Knows it’s him just from the shape of the palm of his hand, warm and gentle on the dip of his spine.

“Hey-o!” Liam shouts above the noise, happy. “Tommo! Happy New Year!”

Liam pulls him into a hug, cold nose pressed into Louis’s neck. Louis shivers, pushing at his face to get him away with a laugh and holds him at arms length. “Liam!” he shouts back. “You made it, mate!”

“Sure did,” Liam says, lips rounding out around the first word in a way that Louis finds really distracting. “What are we having? Woah...” Liam seems to be taking in the number of empty glasses in front of Louis at the bar. “Thought you said you’ve only been here for ten minutes.”

Louis nods, taking another sip of his beer, eyes wide. “Yup,” he says, wiping the foam from his lip. “Want something?”

“No, I’m okay, think I might have to be your babysitter tonight,” Liam says a little slowly, frowning at Louis a little. “Are you all right?”

He huffs, finishing off that beer now as well, arranging the glasses neatly on the bar. He stands up from his stool, lace pulling between his cheeks as a reminder -- he hopes the discomfort doesn’t show on his face -- and nicks a cherry from the garnish holder, popping it in his mouth.

“I’m ace, actually.” Liam’s eyebrows give away his disbelief. “You should have a drink!” He says, grinning as he takes another cherry. “Come on Liam, do a shot with me.”

“Last time I did a shot with you I threw up in my bin,” Liam reminds him as Louis waves down the bartender once more. He orders two more shots and hands one to Liam, who takes it reluctantly. “All right, to?” He holds up the shot, waiting for Louis to toast.

Louis clinks the shot glasses together, feels the warmth of the alcohol he’s already had seeping from his chest down his arms and legs with each movement. “To the new year and trying new things,” he says, and shoots it back. When he turns to put his glass with the others he had been collecting he’s met with an empty bar. He pouts and turns to Liam who blinks hard and shakes his head after taking his drink. “I was going to make a pyramid with my drinks. Let’s get you more drinks so I can make one.”

Liam grabs his arm before he can wave down the poor bartender again. “No, come on,” he says, rubbing his thumb on Louis’s arm. “I’m good for now.”

He swallows thickly, looking up at Liam. The room feels too hot and his hands feel clammy. Liam lets go of his arm and Louis shakes his head a little. “Hey, I want to show you something,” he says, voice wobbly, and turns to walk through the crowd towards the bathroom before he can change his mind.

His legs are wobbly too, he didn’t realise just how drunk he already is and he’s only been here for half an hour, tops. He feels like he’s going to float an inch off the floor and sink into it at the same time. It’s like someone is controlling his limbs with strings and he’s become a muppet. Steadying himself, he makes his way through the bar.

There’s a crowd of people surrounding a table on the way and he feels Liam press up against his back. “Where are we going?” He asks, lips against Louis’s ear. He shivers and pushes through them, pulling Liam with him.

He makes it into the bathroom and turns around, breathless. It’s eerily quiet when the door closes behind Liam and Louis bites his lip.

“It’s a loo,” Liam says impatiently, looking around at the graffitied walls. Louis nods and walks back to the door to lock it. He leans against it for a moment, trying to remember how lungs are supposed to work. “Louis?”

He spins around, back against the door and Liam is looking at him, worried. He pushes off and his hands go to his flies, Liam’s eyes do too. Louis watches his face for something, anything, but his eyebrows only pull closer together.

“I… I, um,” he says, looking down at his shaking hands, as he unbuttons and unzips. He can feel the lace on his fingertips as he pulls his trousers down. He pauses, feels something dark and ugly twist through his chest and into his stomach. He inches down his trousers, closing his eyes, because he can’t stand to see Liam’s reaction.

His breath is fast and harsh through his nose and he feels the fabric catch at his knees, his hands in fists at his sides.

It’s completely quiet aside from the din of the bar outside. His cheeks are burning and he’s about to chew right through his lip when he feel’s Liam’s hands on him.

He opens his eyes, mouth falling open, to see Liam bending down in front of him. But he’s pulling his trousers back up, doing the flies with steady fingers, face inches from Louis. His cheeks are rosy and he’s frowning. Louis relaxes a bit, feels a little relieved, respect for Liam rushing through him.

Liam’s adam’s apple bobs in his throat and Louis sways, Liam’s hands steadying his hips. “You’re a bloody idiot,” Liam whispers, closing his eyes, pressing their foreheads together.

Something else rolls through Louis stomach and when he realises what it is a hand flies to his mouth and he turns to the toilet to wretch, drinks from earlier emptying into the toilet.

After a moment, Liam’s there, rubbing at his back, holding his hand. He keeps throwing up, heaving into the toilet. It goes on for a while and Liam hasn’t left, fingers raking through Louis’s sweaty fringe.

When he finally stops vomiting, he sits on the floor a little pathetically and Liam is squatting next to him, sitting on his heels. He hands him a few paper towels to wipe at his mouth. “All right?”

Louis closes his eyes and nods. “Adrenaline rush,” he mumbles, alcohol keeping him honest.

“Let’s get you home,” Liam says, hand at his elbow to help him stand up. “Come on, someone’s been banging at the door for the last few minutes.” He comes back to present when there’s another loud knock.

They leave, he keeps his eyes on the floor as Liam leads him through the bar and outside. It’s freezing and Liam turns to him. “Where’s your coat?” He asks, softly. Louis shakes his head, he hadn’t worn one.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT…” He hears behind them.

Liam’s helping get his arms into a coat while he’s on the phone for a car to pick them up.

“SEVEN, SIX, FIVE…”

It starts to snow, he watches it in the street lamp.

“FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

He’s in a cab and his chin is tucked in Liam’s coat.

His bed is warm.

-

They don’t talk about it. It’s easier that way, to leave it off the list, he wouldn’t even know how many points it’s worth in the first place and he doesn’t want to ask. He’s falling behind in points, anyway, and he’s a bit sour about it, so it’s probably best that the game falls to the wayside.

Since they’re on break he doesn’t even see Liam for a long while, their texts are few and far between. He’d be grateful for the distance if it didn’t make him feel like he was heartbroken.

He’s moping around his house one day, hasn’t changed out of his joggers, and he can’t remember how many days it’s been since he showered. The sun has long since set and he’s been sat in front of the telly all day. His phone buzzes.

> **Liam** 10:28PM  
>  heeey im at a bar with some mates and we heard a remix ofthat artic monkeys song  
>  have you listenedd to it eyt?
> 
> **Louis** 10:29PM  
>  no i haven’t!!! i should do that

Liam doesn’t text him back and he’s sat staring at his phone where it’s resting on his chest. He wiggles his lips, trying to ignore the itch to text something else. He’s too curious.

> **Louis** 10:37PM  
>  where are you??
> 
> **Liam** 10:41PM  
>  funky buudha ;)

Louis laughs. Of course he is.

> **Louis** 10:42PM  
>  of course you are haha
> 
> **Liam** 10:42PM  
>  w mates from wolvehemaptn
> 
> **Louis** 10:47PM  
>  bit drunk are we?
> 
> **Liam** 10:49PM  
>  only a little!!!!!!!!
> 
> **Louis** 10:49PM  
>  don’t throw up in any bins

He sets his phone down, focusing back on the Simpsons rerun that’s just started. His phone buzzes again halfway through.

> **Liam** 11:01PM  
>  zs birhday was 2nithgt you didnt come!!!!
> 
> **Louis** 11:03PM  
>  zayn’s birthday isn’t for another two weeks???
> 
> **Liam** 11:09PM  
>  no his parryp arty party

He vaguely remembers being told about that. Maybe a random text out of the blue a few days ago. He goes to check his thread with Zayn and another notification pops up from Liam.

> **Liam** 11:12PM  
>  11: 11make a wish!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’’’’!!’

He rolls his eyes. But yes, apparently he had completely forgotten.

> **Louis** 11:17PM  
>  shit i completely forgot about that tell him i’m sorry??  
>  wait i’ll just text him myself
> 
> **Liam** 11:20PM  
>  not w zay nanymore at my flat
> 
> **Louis** 11:21PM  
>  ah in for the night is probably a good idea. drink some water!
> 
> **Liam** 11:30PM  
>  nooooooo the party is heeeeeeere
> 
> **Liam** 11:38PM  
>  u jhuold xcome!

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth he tries to think of an excuse. He doesn’t know why, but the thought of seeing Liam, especially while he’s vulnerable and easily influenced by alcohol, seems like a bad idea. Besides, it’s one of the few nights Liam has left to spend with his old friends; Louis just wouldn’t fit in with them.

> **Louis** 11:47PM  
>  can’t :(
> 
> **Liam** 11:48PM  
>  :((( aawwww but i misss u

His heart races. Liam’s response was so quick. He imagines Liam staring at his phone the entire time Louis was trying to come up with some piss poor excuse.

> **Liam** 11:48PM  
>  isnt as funnnnn  
>  nex tt ime
> 
> **Louis** 11:51PM  
>  yeah mate next time. don’t do anything too crazy without me , not that you would
> 
> **Liam** 11:57PM  
>  i can mbe carazy!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **Louis** 11:58PM  
>  prove it!!! :)

Approximately fifteen minutes later he gets a picture of Liam doing a kegstand, two men Louis doesn’t recognize holding him upside down. He rolls his eyes.

> **Louis** 12:18AM  
>  i said crazy not dumb hahaha
> 
> **Liam** 12:21AM  
>  moog im skreally cdunk lous

A few minutes later he gets a video, this time Liam’s dancing in the middle of his living room, furniture pushed aside. Louis bites at his lip, embarrassed by the grin on his face even though there’s no one there to see it.

> **Louis** 12:23AM  
>  you do that on a daily basis ! how is that crazy?  
>  do something brave
> 
> **Liam** 12:25AM  
>  im mot veru brtaev  
>  no\t vrave evouht o lksis u

Louis frowns at the messages, he can’t decipher them. He sends Liam a question mark but doesn’t get anything in return.

It’s another chunk of time before he gets the next photo from Liam. He’d nearly fallen asleep but as soon as he opens the photo he shoots up out of his seat, panic racing through him. Louis dials his number.

“Louis!” Liam says, voice loud and happy, wind whipping through the speaker.

“Get off of that ledge,” Louis says, still panicked. “I said crazy, not _insane_.”

“Crazy and insane are the same things, Louis,” he slurs. “I’m not on the ledge anymore, I’m back on the balcony. Where are you?”

Louis sits back, heart still racing. “I’m at home,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Listen, get back inside, don’t do anything that could get you killed. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. For the record, I would not hop from my balcony to the ledge of my building thirty something floors high just for a photo.”

Liam giggles. “So I win then. I told you I can do a crazy thing with -- crazy things without you.”

“Wasn’t crazy,” Louis argues, never one to let things go that easily. “Like I said, insane, and bloody stupid and reckless. But not crazy. Not Tommo-crazy.”

“Mmm,” Liam hums into the phone, and the wind is gone and a door closes in the background. There’s loud boy chatter happening now and a bit of music. “I will think of something Tommo-crazy then.”

He bites his lip. “All right, well, now that I’ve made sure you haven’t died, I should go to bed.”

Liam groans. “You’re no fun.”

“Goodnight, Liam,” he says steadily, sure that Liam can tell he’s smiling just by the way he says it. “I expect to wake up tomorrow to the craziest idea ever.”

“Goodnight, babe,” Liam mumbles. Louis’s stomach twists at the level of his voice, the way he says it like it’s just for Louis to hear. “Bye.”

“Bye, Li.” He hangs up and gets off the couch, turning off the telly as he heads to bed. It’s nearly one in the morning and he’s knackered from a day of sitting on the couch and doing absolutely nothing. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks, he should do something to make up for it. Some sort of physical activity, go for a jog or something.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, getting into his pajamas and turning off the light, he checks his phone one more time with a heavy yawn. Liam’s sent him another video.

“I’m going to steal the neighbor’s front door mat,” he’s saying into the camera. “Because you always steal things from places we go, so I’m doing something the Tommo would do. Here we go.”

He walks out of his front door, camera still facing him as he steps into the hall, checking to see if the coast is clear. The camera turns then, showing his bare feet walking to the next door down the way. He grabs the welcome mat and runs back to his own door closing it with a laugh, he turns the camera to face him again. “Alright, I’ve done it, I’ve done the craziest thing I can think of. Stealing, I hope you’re happy.”

Louis snorts, of course Liam thinks stealing is worse than jumping onto a ledge on top of a high rise. He watches the video one more time before he texts back.

> **Louis** 1:14AM  
>  you’ll just feel bad and end up giving that mat back tomorrow. do something that you can’t take back !!!
> 
> **Liam** 1:15AM  
>  ::( m not toomo carzy :((((((((

He falls asleep fairly easily, no longer really worried about what had happened on New Year’s Eve, doesn’t have to hope that it won’t be awkward the next time they see each other. His head feels cleared and his bed is warm with the thought of Liam, even if he isn’t physically there.

The next morning he takes in a deep breath as he wakes up. The blankets shift when he stretches his back and that’s when he realises he’s hard. He groans, rubbing at his eyes before sliding a hand under the sheets and around the base of his cock. He sighs and stares at the ceiling.

Might as well, he thinks. He shifts reaching for the drawer of the night stand and knocks his phone off the bed by accident. He twists over to get it off the ground and checks to see if he’s got anything.

There’s a preview for a photo that Liam’s sent him, a thumbnail of it on his lock screen and he blinks, can’t tell if his eyes are focusing properly because he thinks…

He slides the notification and unlocks his phone.

> **Liam** 1:58AM  
>  stilllllll want to maoryry you donest have 2 b bwhen weret 25 thouhg
> 
> **Liam** 2:03AM  
>  ookk i houghtt of smtnhin luoi
> 
> **Liam** 2:05AM  
>  u

And there’s a photo of Liam’s cock, hard and wet, fingers wrapped around the head, pulling the foreskin down. Louis swallows, can’t stop the press of his hips into the mattress.

> **Liam** 2:18AM  
>  shiit i cant beleve i iddthat

“Fuck,” Louis mumbles, and he stares at the picture for a moment, breathing hard. He closes his eyes and tries to resist the urge to think about what this means. To try to resist the urge jerk off to it. He fails miserably, hand flying to the drawer again. He gets out his lube and flips over so he’s lying on his back, kicking the blankets off.

He slicks himeslf up, hand cold on his cock and he looks at the photo again, biting his lip as his hand finds a rhythm. Groaning, his hips stutter up into his palm. His eyes gloss over as he stares at the photo and he closes them so he can imagine Liam’s hand moving in the photo. Imagine Liam’s hand is the one touching his cock.

His breath turns ragged and he can’t stop his hips from jerking off the mattress. He thinks about Liam bent in front of him in the bathroom on New Year’s Eve. Warm hands on his waist, fingers at his flies. He thinks about Liam mouthing at his cock through the lace underwear.

He comes with a surprised shout, streaking his stomach, hand working himself until he’s done. He sits up on his elbows to find the box of tissues on his nightstand to wipe his hands.

> **Louis** 10:57AM  
>  holy shit li

Biting his lip, he snaps a photo of the come on his stomach, cock soft in the background, and attaches it to a message, thumb hovering over the send button. He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment, tells himself this is a terrible idea. That Liam was drunk and it didn’t mean that he was actually thinking of Louis while getting himself off last night. He deletes the message and locks his phone.

Liam doesn’t text back the rest of the day so he doesn’t say anything either. And then there’s no text for the rest of the week and he thinks maybe he should say something. But one week turns into three and by then it’s too late. He deletes the photo from his messages, feels like he’s doing Liam a disservice by even seeing it when he opens the thread to text him about something dumb that reminds him of Liam, always ends up stopping himself and never sends anything because the photo makes him feel sick and guilty.

It’s a few nights ahead of the Brit awards before he works up the nerve to do anything. He calls Liam, because texting seems like a bad choice, he doesn’t want to remind Liam of their last conversation by making him pull it up to read the new messages. Besides, there’s too much for him to say.

The line rings and rings, goes to voicemail and he huffs, doesn’t let himself pause too long on the idea that maybe Liam’s screening his call.

“Hey,” he says after the beep. He pauses, tries to think of what he wanted to say and his mind is blank. “I, um, I deleted the photo. I didn’t -- I hope you’re all right, we haven’t talked in a while, so, I don’t really know… Erm, I saw your meltdown on twitter over that one show. Shit. This isn’t what I wanted to say. Fuck.”

He shakes his head and continues, “Anyway, I’ll see you at the awards, yeah? Don’t let it be awkward, because it doesn’t have to be, I’ve seen your dick before. You’ve seen mine. Just not… anyway.” He clears his throat. “It didn’t happen, all right? And look at the bright side, at least you won gay chicken, right? Christ. Okay, I’ll see you soon, mate. Love you.”

He winces and hangs up.

-

It might be freezing outside, but inside, with all the lights and people, and the bloody suit. It’s hot. And Liam is sat next to him, can’t even look at him, even though they’ve chatted, albeit awkwardly, on the red carpet and in interviews. He keeps turning to Niall at their table, couldn’t be more obvious about how uncomfortable he is being sat with Louis.

He’d like to be able to talk, but he can’t just shout it out that Liam’s sent him a dick pic. Let alone hard. While masturbating. Possibly whilst thinking about Louis. Alright, undoubtedly thinking about Louis, considering.

Louis watches him throughout the awards, one glass of champagne after another, giggling at Niall about everything, touching Niall’s arm too much, definitely a little tipsy.

At some point Harry leans across the table to talk across Zayn. “How’s the game going?”

“Game?” Louis says, tries to go for casual. Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, he won, I suppose. We haven’t really been playing. He’s got more points.”

Harry laughs. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis hisses, confused.

Zayn looks at him then. “You talk a big game, mate,” he says with a grin. “But, I’d say the game’s always been in Liam’s favor, what says you, Haz?”

Harry nods, smiling at Zayn like there’s some inside joke. “Yeah, when it comes to being completely oblivious to the most obvious thing ever, Louis is usually pretty good at denial. Think he basically handed this one to Liam.”

Louis frowns and glances at Liam who has his hands cupped to Niall’s cheeks, pushing them around like an annoying aunt. They seem to have not heard the conversation happening across the table. He turns back to them with an annoyed sigh. “All right, all right, let’s have it already.”

“He’s mad about you,” Zayn mumbles, turning back to the awards.

“Has been,” Harry comments. “For ages. Says he fucked everything up and that you don’t feel the same way. Something about the game? Dunno. Anyway, I’m off to have a wee.”

“They’re announcing our category after this next one!” Zayn says as Harry stands up and walks away. “Haz!” But he’s already gone.

Louis stares at the stem of his champagne flute and frowns, trying to figure it all out. He wishes he could drag Liam off so they could fucking talk, but with the way things are going he’s fairly sure Liam’s going to leave the band to join the British Space Agency just so he can take the first manned mission to Mars and get the hell away from this mess.

Louis wouldn’t blame him.

He thinks about stopping him after they come off stage from accepting their awards but Liam’s giggling at Harry for having to run from the loo. He thinks about saying something at the table, but Liam’s drinking another glass of champagne and he’s having a conversation, low and quiet, with Zayn.

His chance comes when the show is over and they’ve done their post-award interviews. They’re on their way to the cars, ready to leave the venue. As they’re walking, he slips an arm around Liam’s waist and tugs him in close so they’re walking together.

“Hey,” he says quietly. Liam’s back stiffens and he looks visibly paler in the fluorescent lighting. “Should we find you a bin?” Louis jokes. “I mean, throwing up in bins seems to be a pattern with us. Or me, maybe. Seriously you look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Liam clears his throat and keeps walking. He shakes his head after a moment, risking a glance at Louis. He gives Liam a small smile. “Hey,” he repeats.

“Hi,” Liam says, biting his lip and looking at his feet as they step outside through a set of doors.

“You were having a good time tonight,” Louis comments, keeping his voice level and calm. Liam nods. “Good. Listen, there’s something we should talk about--” Liam’s feet slow and Louis has to tug him to keep him from stopping. “Not that, something else. I’ve had an idea and I wanted to ask you about it.”

“Oh?” Liam’s voice is breathy and nervous.

“Yeah, got a second?” He asks, still aiming to keep his tone steady and solid.

“Sure.”

He walks Liam to the car that’s waiting to take him home. They stand at the door for a second, watching the other lads say goodbye, giving them a wave as they get into their own cars. He turns to Liam once they’re alone and gives him a considering look.

Louis clears his throat and looks down at his feet, nerves suddenly settling in his stomach. He might be the one that needs the bin after all.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Louis says quickly, looking up to see Liam’s reaction. “Next Friday? Dinner or a film? Something? Anything you want.”

The emotions play across Liam’s face in rapid succession. Confusion leading to understanding. Understanding leading to hurt. Hurt leading to discomfort. Louis’s heart sinks.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” Liam mumbles, frowning at his hands.

A laugh bubbles out of Louis’s throat. He cups a hand to his mouth. “No,” he says immediately. “No, no. Oh, Liam, no. I didn’t mean…”

Liam’s frowning at him now, expression on his face going back to confusion. “What?”

“The game is over,” he says, shaking his head. “Your prize, should you choose to accept, is me. Not seriously,” he amends quickly, before Liam can say anything. “I mean we never said there was anything to be won. I don’t mean… What I mean is I’d like to take you on a proper date. Not anything to do with the game. Just you and me. No points. No pausing.”

“What?” Liam says again, finally really looking at Louis for the first time tonight.

“You heard me, babe.”

Liam’s mouth works like he’s trying to figure out what to say and then he gives a self-depreciating sort of laugh. “I…”

“Say yes,” Louis says softly. “This isn’t a prank, it isn’t part of the game. I promise.”

Liam’s watching him, guarded expression. After a moment his eyebrows soften and he grins a little before he can school his features. “All right, okay, yeah.”

“Brilliant,” Louis says with a smile before he ducks in to give Liam a quick kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Liam.”

He opens the car door for Liam and closes it once he’s in, taking a step back to watch the car drive away before he gets into his own.

-

“I’m in the lift,” he says into his phone.

“You could’ve just waited to knock,” Liam replies. “And hello to you too.”

“Remember how I said I wanted to take you out?” He hits the Door Close button like he’s playing video games and can’t remember the combos. “Yeah, what if I admit that I’m too nervous and say we stay in?”

“That’s fine,” Liam says easily. “I’ll just change into less fancy clothes on. Had my Burberry coat ready and everything. What floor are you at?”

“Fourth,” he says, watching the number flip to five and six. “Still got a ways to go. But don’t change too fast, wouldn’t mind interrupting you half undressed.”

“Louis,” he says with a laugh. “Wait, how do you have service in the lift? I never get service in the lift.”

Louis shrugs and realises Liam can’t see him. “Dunno,” he says, and shoves a hand in his pocket. “By the way, I brought the jacket you lent me on New Years. The one with all the zippers and buckles.”

“Thought I’d never see that one again,” Liam says, there’s a moment where fabric slides across the phone. “Sorry, let me put you on speaker. So what are we doing tonight if we aren’t going out?”

“Well,” he says, taking in a deep breath. “Was thinking we could do a board game, maybe get something delivered? Could watch a movie? Write?”

“So a normal night in,” Liam says, but he doesn’t sound disappointed.

“Yeah,” Louis says, exhaling. “If that’s alright?”

“Could use a bit of normal, honestly.”

“Great, also I’m here,” he says as the lift chimes and the doors open. He steps out and walks down the hall, Liam’s jacket in his hand. “Could you let me in?”

“Hold on, just gotta find the right shirt,” Liam says.

“No, no,” Louis jumps in, laughing. “That isn’t necessary, Li.”

Liam laughs into the phone and hangs up.

-

The movie ended an hour ago, but Louis is still curled against Liam’s chest in his bed. Liam hasn’t moved in a while, he's just been running his fingers through Louis’s hair with his arm pillowed under Louis’s shoulder. His other hand is holding Louis’s wrist loosely, was a tight grip just twenty minutes ago from when Louis kept trying to pull his arm hair.

Louis blinks as Liam shifts, stirring. Louis rests his chin on Liam’s chest.

“Hey,” He whispers and clears his throat.

“Hey,” Liam replies with a smile.

Louis looks down again and tugs his wrist from the ring of Liam’s fingers. He grabs Liam’s wrist in turn and tugs his arm, pushes the sleeve up his forearm so that the rest of the arrows are showing rather than just the first one, which was peeking out from under Liam’s shirt all night.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, still a whisper. He traces the tattoo across Liam’s wrist and blinks. His hand moves up to the arrows and hovers there for a moment, like he’s considering whether to start at the crook of Liam’s elbow or at the arrow closer to his wrist. And then he’s pressing his thumb in hard at the one closest to him, pushing the skin against muscle and bone. “Can I pick an arrow?”

Liam hums, and it’s low, in his chest. Louis pushes upwards, towards Liam’s elbow, pressure still the same.

“Have the other lads?” Liam shakes his head, no, and Louis’s eyes light up and he goes back to the arrows in consideration.

He’s reached the arrow near Liam’s elbow and then lets his thumb trace back down, barely touching Liam’s arm at all. It makes the hairs there stand up, goosebumps running up Liam’s arm and he goes stiff with Louis pressed flush against him.

Louis is quiet and keeps his eyes focused on Liam’s wrist where he traces the script again, _Only time will tell…_

The room is heavy and the only sounds are them breathing in sync.

And then Louis stops and presses two fingers into the underside of his wrist, feeling for his pulse. Liam swallows hard and Louis presses his mouth into Liam’s chest where his shirt isn’t buttoned. He doesn’t kiss or bite or lick or do anything that Liam has come to expect from him.

Instead, his mouth is warm against Liam’s collarbone, and he smiles. He feels Liam shiver under him and it makes Louis feel light-headed to know that he has that kind of effect.

Louis lifts his head again and looks at Liam’s lips as he says, “I want the one closest to your pulse, closest to your heartbeat.”

Liam nods, but doesn’t say anything, just licks his lips. Louis’s heart races as he watches. His lips are wet and pink. And he wants them.

“This one’s mine,” Louis says but he’s not looking at the tattoo, his hand leaves Liam’s arm and is creeping up his chest. “Say something.”

“It’s yours,” Liam says, voice low and rough. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” Louis answers, sliding up closer to Liam’s face. To his lips. “That’s what I want.”

He kisses Liam, tender and easy, and Liam responds instantly. There’s no surprise, they both knew it was going to happen. Louis feels like his mind has been cleared, all of the nonsense from the last few months washes away.

Liam makes a pleading noise in the back of his throat and he turns the kiss rough, needy, nipping at Louis’s bottom lip before running his tongue over it.

Louis opens his mouth into the next kiss, hands tugging Liam’s shirt over his head, desperate to touch every inch of him he can. He trails kisses down Liam’s jaw, working his way to the spot on Liam neck that he always marks. This time it’s different.

Liam tugs Louis’s shirt off too, tossing it on the floor. Louis kisses him on the mouth again, hands holding his jaw firmly in place but Liam twists and takes two of Louis’s fingers into his mouth, eyes closed as he sucks at them.

Louis can’t help but groan as he watches, he pulls his hand away, fingers still wet as he fumbles with Liam’s flies, desperate to see him again. This time not blurry or with terrible lighting on a tiny screen.

“Want to suck you,” Louis manages against Liam’s lips. Liam moans, moves so that they can shove his trousers and pants down in one go. “Should’ve worn the lingerie for you again.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, covering his eyes with his arm as Louis works his way down Liam’s chest. He loves the hair, how there’s a trail of it that leads him to what he wants. “You were so hot in that. Fuck, Lou.”

“Next time, then,” Louis says on a sigh as he reaches Liam’s cock, which is thickening under his hand. He presses a kiss to the tip, pulling the foreskin back with his hand and swirls his tongue around the head of his cock in circles. He lets go and his tongue slips under his foreskin. Liam moans louder than before, hips jerking off the bed, cock bumping against Louis’s chin. He laughs and gives Liam a grin before he licks his lips and sets them around Liam’s cock.

He works up a rhythm, hand wrapped around what he can’t get in his mouth. He’s got saliva running down his chin but he doesn’t really care, he just closes his eyes and keeps bobbing his head, taking in more each time he goes down.

Liam’s all breathy noises, hands clenching into the sheets, until Louis presses his tongue flat against the underside of his cock while he’s moving, and Liam’s fingers slide into his hair, mouth hanging open, and head arching back. He grips Louis’s hair tighter each time he goes down. Louis hums around Liam, likes the tight tug on his scalp.

“I-I’m close, Lou,” he bites out, thighs flexing underneath Louis.

Louis pulls off, arm trembling where he’s holding himself up. “All right, love,” he says, voice hoarse, working Liam with his hand. He presses another kiss to the tip of Liam’s cock and opens his mouth, tongue resting against it, and looks up at Liam.

Liam catches his eye before his head drops to the bed and his stomach clenches, come spilling onto Louis’s tongue and down his chin.

He wipes at his face with his clean hand and shifts so they’re face to face again. Liam is breathing hard, eyes opening when he feels Louis move, and he reaches for him, pulling him in by the neck for a kiss.

Liam pushes at Louis’s shoulder, flipping them over, and kicks his trousers and pants the rest of the way off before turning to take Louis’s off as well.

“Come ‘ere,” Liam mumbles, pulling him down the bed. Louis’s cock is red and wet against his stomach and he moans when Liam finally touches him. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

He noses at Louis’s ear, pressing kisses at his neck, hand working him. “Tell me,” Louis says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t get how he didn’t notice. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want to taste you,” Liam murmurs, biting at Louis’s earlobe, thumb swiping down his slit. “Want to open you up with my tongue and then my fingers, want you wet and desperate for my dick.” Louis moans his name, hips jerking off the bed. “Wanna see you in that lingerie again,” Liam says, swallowing thickly. Louis’s at the edge, can feel it rolling through his spine, he shudders with each stroke, hands grabbing desperately at Liam’s hips. “Wanna fuck you until your voice is hoarse from yelling my name.”

“Li,” Louis grinds out, desperate. His hips stutter and Liam’s palm wraps around the head, smoothing his thumb down the underside of his cock as he jerks him, and Louis climaxes, shouting as come stripes his stomach and Liam’s hand.

He takes a shuddering breath and opens his eyes to see Liam reaching for tissues, cleaning them both off. He pats Liam’s chest, eyes finding the blossoms of red from the way he’d sucked at the skin and he rubs at them, proud.

Louis hums, arms around Liam’s neck to pull him in for a tight hug, and he sighs when Liam kisses his neck.

“So sixty points to me for that blowjob,” he says through a yawn.

Liam laughs, and wrestles Louis’s arms, pinning them to the mattress. “Wasn’t on the list!” He argues, shifting to sit on top of Louis’s waist. Louis lets out a groan at the weight. “Besides, I won.”

Liam’s peppering kisses all over his face and he grimaces. “Don’t remind me,” he says, trying to pull out of Liam’s grasp, he groans a little when Liam’s hands tighten on his wrists. “I hate losing.”

“Don’t think either of us lost,” Liam murmurs.

“Mmm, I suppose you’re right.” Louis closes his eyes as Liam presses a kiss to his lips. “So, I don’t know about you but I want a big wedding.”

“Hmm?” Liam asks, rolling over to the side, wrapping his arms around him.

“When we get married,” Louis says, twisting so that Liam is spooning him. “Although, if it’s anything like your proposal, I have to say, I will be very disappointed.”

Liam grins against the back of his neck. “I told you that didn’t count. Just you wait,” he mumbles. “When I really mean it, you’ll know.”

Louis chuckles, presses back against Liam. “Oh, is that right?”

“I just had to set the bar very low,” Liam says. “That way, when I do, it’ll knock your socks off.”

“I don’t wear socks,” Louis reminds him, patting at his thigh. “Anyway, is it when I turn twenty-five or when you turn twenty-five? Don’t think I could deal with having a birthday, an anniversary, _and_ Christmas all on the same day.”

“Don’t think I’ll make you wait that long.”


End file.
